


A Sorry Excuse For A Snake

by IHidMyFaceFromYouNoMore



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: And Are Probably Married, Aziraphale and Crowley Live Together (Good Omens), Bickering: The Movie!, Fanart, Just Fluff and Good Feelings In The End, M/M, Snake!Crowley - Freeform, You decide!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2020-06-28 17:13:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19816819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IHidMyFaceFromYouNoMore/pseuds/IHidMyFaceFromYouNoMore
Summary: Crowley has a Snake Day. Aziraphale is Not Having It.Plus some art I made for this fic at the end !





	A Sorry Excuse For A Snake

Despite Aziraphale’s extensive ethereal abilities, he had nearly tripped four times over the figure of Crowley, who was napping on the garden door step. It seemed that each time the angel left the garden to pick something up from inside the cottage(first he forgot to bring the right book, then his sun-hat, then sometime later he fancied a drink to go with his reading), he nearly forgot Crowley’s current whereabouts as well as his form. 

Crowley was evidently having an incurably serpentine day. He was lying on his back, his charcoal scaly belly turned up toward the light, a content slackness to his jaw as he napped. Aziraphale was far from content after nearly toppling over into the nearby rosebushes four times. 

"For the last time, please, dear; would you move a bit out of the way so I don't step on your tail-end?" 

Crowley barely moved a muscle as he spoke, ”Nnngh. Ah. No. Can't do, sorry. Sun's only good right here."

Very well. Aziraphale went and got out the dustpan and duster, with which he scooped Crowley up. The snake made a weak protest of a drawn out whine. The body appeared boneless as Aziraphale dumped the contents of the dustpan into the nearest potted plant with a slithery 'thomp'.

The limp noodle rolled over and out of the pot with another histrionic groan. "You'd rather I die of hypothermia than get stepped on by your light-as-an-angel feet?" 

Aziraphale was not about to debate the logistics of that argument, however wrong the individual parts were. He instead sighed deeply(and just as histrionically), and lifted the petulant snake by its mid, slinging him over his shoulders with a bit of an attitude.

Upstairs, Aziraphale magicked hot water( _not_ holy water, he wasn’t _that_ cruel) into the bathtub and threw his live scarf into the basin, where it sunk in an act of defiance before turning into a very wet human-like Crowley. 

“Better? Or perhaps too warm now?” Aziraphale made a taut angelic smile, meaning the type he had inadvertantly learned from Gabriel.

Crowley’s dripping shoes hung over the sides of the tub and his lenses had fogged over. He spat out some bathwater in the angel's direction. It only missed by a miracle.

As Aziraphale was about to leave Crowley to stew in his own bad decisions, the angel found that he could not cross the threshold and not by any occult intervention, but by his own guilt. 

He turned with understated regret on his face. “Was I a bit too harsh?”

Crowley made his thinking noise. “Eh, say three hail Maries and bugger off for now.”

Aziraphale sighed because he knew that he had been. Just a little bit too harsh. He magicked all the water out of the tub again. “Forgive me?”

Crowley finally looked up at him with devious nonchalance. “There’s only one thing you can do that’ll make me forgive you at this point.”

Aziraphale found it hard to concentrate on his book when Crowley insisted on moving around under his sweater every thirty seconds. He said it was to find the nicest, warmest spot on Aziraphale’s body, and the spot just conveniently kept changing. His skinny tail-end would poke out of the neck of the sweater and tickle Aziraphale’s nose on purpose. And Aziraphale was horribly ticklish despite his best divine efforts. 

But then, once he’d had his fun, Crowley would slither up and loosely tie himself around Aziraphale’s neck so that he could follow along in the story the angel was reading. He asked him to read aloud while Crowley closed his eyes for a bit, he always liked to listen to him reading aloud. This time, Crowley didn’t nap or was in anyone’s way.

When the sun was beginning to go down and Aziraphale had decided it was time to get up and go inside to order some nice Indian takeout for them, Crowley didn’t leave his spot. 

“I’m sorry I was being difficult, angel.” A sleepy voice declared.

“I know you are, dear.” Aziraphale walked them back into the cottage, patting a section of scales gently, reassuringly. He knew Crowley should have just asked if he could lie on him while he was reading, as that was clearly just what the demon had wanted. But admittedly, it had been more fun this way.

**Author's Note:**

> Lovely breaking into a new fandom, already got more material stirring in the pot as I write this lol hope to upload that as well soon💗in the meantime; thanks for reading! I love a comment, so if you got anything to say, just say it 🤠


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